


Mirror, Mirror

by TwistedWonderland



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Underage Sex, Voyeurism, teenagers are horny, this gets dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedWonderland/pseuds/TwistedWonderland
Summary: Once Upon a Time, a young King fell in love with a villain. Each day he would see his love and say nothing to the boy, vowing never to divulge his feelings until he was worthy enough to be his lover. The King tried to be the kind of man his villain deserved, but it was never enough for the one person whose opinion truly mattered, his reflection's.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So now that I'm back into Descendants, I want to post this fanfic that's been of ff.net for ever. I really like it and I've started getting ideas for it again, so I figured why not roll the dice? So here it is. I hope you enjoy.

Once, there was a boy whose paper skin stretched over glass bones. He lived deep in the forest in a gingerbread house that smelled of heaven and hell and tasted of fairy tales and dread. Every day, he would wake to his house tempting him with confections of every flavor.

The bathroom mirror, framed with marbled white fudge.

The oven, open of a fresh batch of gingerbread men.

The floor, crisp bars of the thickest and darkest chocolate ever imagined by men.

But, the boy would never sample his temptations. Instead he fought against them, smashing mirrors, crushing the gingerbread men, and pounding at the floor with his fists until they were raw and bloodied.

And the boy hid things around his house. Secret things. Hidden things. Shameful things. And his house wouldn't let him forget them.

The bathroom mirror, ugly and warped.

The oven, opened to half burnt gingerbread men, their mouth open in silent screams.

The floor, old and splintered, covered in cold blood and bile.

As the boy's heart ticked further and further into the future, his body began to fade. At first it was nothing he couldn't handle. A mug would fall through his hand and shatter against the floor or he would need to try more than once to grasp the doorknob firmly enough to open the door.

But, soon he began to fall through the floor and pass through the walls of his gingerbread house. The house tried it's hardest to help, to make the boy more solid. It would create the sweetest candies for the boy, the best cake, everything, anything. The house would create anything for the boy.

He never took a bite.

The boy knew what the house was. He knew it only meant to poison him, to make him ugly and weak and fat. And slowly, as his body faded, so did the house's glamour.

The gingerbread walls were no longer made of cookie and icing. Instead, the boy saw them for what they really were. Thick stitches of red licorice and blood veins held the parts together, a gruesome tapestry of human flesh. The boy saw the pieces of bone and rotting limbs in the meals the house made. He smelled the decay wafting from the oven as he tried to fool the house into thinking he was doing what it wanted.

And he did.

Flesh hidden in closets, eyeballs stuffed and floating in jars of formaldehyde flavored soda, bones hidden in the back of the toilet seat. He smiled at the house, nodded and laughed and let the house think it had won.

That is until the boy disappeared forever, right in the middle of a conversion with his house, and was lost. In the moment before the boy vanished completely, the house watched in horror and the brightest smile creased his paper skin. The picture of serenity and peace, until the boy was nothing and no more.

* * *

 

Carlos bit his lip as he turned the mirror over in his hands. He knew what he should do, run after Evie and give the ancient glass back to her. He would have done that even if he hadn't come to Auradon, it was just the kind of person Carlos was. But as the de Vil parted his lips to call out to the technical princess, no sound came out. Instead he listened as the girl's footsteps grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared completely.

With a quiet grace he didn't know he possessed, Carlos tiptoed towards the door and quietly locked it, as to not wake Dude, who slept curled in a small, brown, fluff ball in the corner of the dorm room. His heart pounded against his ribs as a lump grew in the base of the boy's throat. He swallowed it down as he crawled into bed, the coolness of the sheets seeping through his clothes and the silence in the room pounding in his ears.

Slowly, Carlos raised the mirror just high enough to gaze at his reflection, white hair, face full of freckles, the usual gazed back at him. But, Carlos wasn't interested in himself. No, instead he looked past his reflection and through the grimy glass to what was hidden behind its simple facade.

It hid the magic well, even the fairy godmother had no idea what Evie carried with her, hell Carlos doubted Evie or her mother knew what kind of power they had. They could see anything, secrets, blackmail, the world was at their finger tips and yet they used it to make sure they were the fairest in the land.

It wasn't like Carlos didn't understand it, even as he held the mirror in front of him, the world's best cheat codes, government secrets, the answers to some of life's greatest questions all paled in comparison to what he really wanted.

With a voice steadier then anything that has ever passed his lips, Carlos spoke to the mirror.

"Magic Mirror in my hands, show me where the one I want stands."

Instantly, his reflection vanished only to be replaced by another image; one of the newly crowned King of Auradon who stood in the center of his room, gazing at the mirror above his dresser. Carlos stiffened as his eyes drank in every inch of the sixteen year old. A black tank top clung to his chest, accentuating the teen's well defined chest and abs. His brown-blond hair stuck to his forehead in dark tendrils and, as he ran his hand through his locks, Carlos' mouth dried as he watched the muscles in Ben's arm flex.

But, as the de Vil unconsciously fell back onto his bed, his mouth started to water once his eyes drifted low enough. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Carlos found comfort in the fact he wasn't the only teenager to wear tighty whities. Ben's briefs, stark white and a perfect contrast to his black tank top, fit him perfectly. Carlos felt his own briefs tighten as his greedy eyes took in every curve and bulge the fabric concealed from the mirror's view.

Ben glanced around his bedroom, completely unaware of Carlos, and once he was confident he was alone fell backwards onto his bed. The King's hand slowly roamed the fabric of his tank top, drawing small circles around each of his nipples until they had hardened into points.

Carlos suddenly felt too hot. The air in his dorm hung thick with humidity and his clothes awkwardly stuck to his body. When Ben's hand traveled lower, palming himself through the tented fabric of his briefs, eyes closed in pleasure, Carlos practically ripped the shorts off his body, his own cock leaking pre-cum through the white and black material of his briefs.

"Ben" Carlos muttered as he held the mirror closer, his palm slick with sweat.

The boy in the mirror rolled a pink tongue over his lips before peeling down his underwear to his knees with one hand. His cock sprang free, hard as a diamond. The sight of Ben's penis nearly overwhelmed Carlos, who had already wrapped his own hand around himself. The black and white teen watched as Mal's boyfriend wrapped his left hand around the engorged organ and began a series of slow strokes.

The part of Carlos' mind that wasn't overwhelmed with lust couldn't believe his luck. Not only was he able to watch his crush undetected, but was getting enough masturbatory material to last him a life time. Carlos' eyes narrowed in on Ben's strokes, matching the pace of his own motions with his crush's.

If he closed his eyes, Carlos could almost picture it was Ben jerking him off. That it was Ben's hot breath sending waves of gooseflesh and pleasure down his spine. He could almost believe it was Ben in the room afterwards, whispering sweet nonsense into Carlos' ear as they lay naked between the sheets, smelling of sex and lust and love.

But, Ben wasn't there. He was in his own room, probably jacking off to a mental picture of Mal in some princess getup. Carlos shook those thoughts away as his strokes grew faster and pleasure began to bubble to the surface.

Carlos opened his eyes for one last glance at the King, one more image to push him over edge. Instead, he found himself transfixed on Ben as he drew the index and middle finger into his mouth. Carlos could see the outline of his tongue pressing against his cheek as the muscles swirled around the digits.

However, when Ben arched his back and slide his index finger passed the ring of muscle, Carlos fucking lost it. He didn't even need to stroke himself, instead an orgasm rocked his body unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Fireworks.

He felt like a supernova, like a star exploding in the night sky, sending stardust to every corner of the universe. His skin tingled; his breath was labored and heavy. Exhaustion overtook the de Vil almost immediately, the sheets of his bed swallowing the younger boy until Carlos almost fell asleep right there, with his underwear around his ankles and cum splattered across his chest.

Instead, Carlos gathered himself and stalked to the bathroom, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear as he did. A hot shower, and another session with his hand, brought Carlos out of the bathroom feeling like a new man. He adjusted his member in new briefs, trying not to think about Ben's own pair as he did so, and pulled on a new pair of red shorts.

Just as he had slipped them on, Jay unlocked the door and unceremoniously barged inside. Carlos took note of the trail of hickies starting from the base of his jaw line and disappearing under the collar of his shirt.

"Dude!" Jay shouted, the dog in question instantly leaping to his feet, tail wagging in excitement. "Let's go for a walk."

"He's my dog," Carlos muttered, zipping up his fly. "I should walk him."

"You can come and pick up his shit." Jay suggested, scooping the mutt up in his tanned arms. Carlos muttered something inaudible as he grabbed Dude's leash from its hook and followed the son of Jafar out the door, shutting it behind him with a loud bang.

As Carlos made his way out of Auradon prep, he remained completely unaware that during his orgasm, the magic mirror had slipped from his grasp and splintered against the floor.

The mirror had enough cracks, more than enough really, but as the glass splintered against the dorm floor, it ran deeper than any crack beforehand. Pass the glass, pass the frame, and down. Down into the depths of the mirror the crack spread. Deeper and deeper and deeper, until it came to the deepest point.

And at that point, did something slip out of the magic mirror. The slave. The power. It leaked from the fractured glass like liquid diamond, glittering in the midday sun until it took shape. Skin that glistened like the glass that grew in thin stands from atop its head and a chunk of mirrored glass in each eye socket.

The Slave in the Magic Mirror reached down with long fingers and plucked the remnants of its prison from the ground. It help the frame in its hands as if were a feather, light and delicate. Then it crushed whatever remained of the magic mirror into dust.

The Slave stretched its arms over its head, tiny pops bursting from every joint as it did so, before moving to pick up Carlos' black and white briefs, a small "tsk-tsk" echoing from its mouth.

"Poor boy," the Slave muttered, tossing the underwear into the hamper. "Never to know what he could have had."

With that, the Slave pressed himself against a wall, parted its lips and asked itself the question it never could before. "Magic Mirror, pressed against the wall. Who do I want most of all?"

And in those mirrored eyes, the Slave saw exactly who it expected to see. A smirk slithered across its face as moved towards the door, each step as sharp and as loud as the sound of shattering glass.


	2. Chapter 2

Once, there was a queen who sat atop a golden throne, drenched in the finest silk and jewels from every land the night sky stretched across. The stars themselves fell to Earth, enchanted by her beauty and settled in her glassy eyes, so that they shined and twinkled even during the brightest day. Her queendom was prosperous, knowing no poverty or famine or pestilence. Its wars were few and far between, never long or eventful enough to warrant even a mention in the history books. The queen was happy with her queendom and what it gave to her and she gave to it.

Until she wasn't

Until she started to ask for more.

It was subtle at first, quiet and silent like the dusk sky overtaken by inky blackness. A few more centimeters of wine in her glass, a few more kernels on her cob. Nothing too drastic, nothing too concerning.

The stars in the queen's eyes still twinkled as she decreed a slight tax hike for her subjects.

Her armies marched with purpose as they overtook foreign lands on their queen's behalf.

Her architects slaved over blueprints of bigger palaces.

Her goldsmiths threw themselves into pots of boiling gold to stop themselves from constructing any more of the queen's golden thrones.

But, she still wanted more.

Everyday her table, made of oak and pine and sorrow, would creak under the weight of the feast prepared for the queen. The smell of fresh bread and savory meats filled her palace as she gorged herself. Not a crumb was left on the table, and as her court went hungry, she demanded the cooks make more for tomorrow. And they did, they worked day and night to give their queen her feast, so much so that even as their hearts gave out, their limbs continued to bake and baste and boil for their sire.

But, her feasts and thrones and land weren't enough. She had more than any king or queen or peasant or god, but she wanted, needed, more. More than her servants, her slaves, her subjects.

Doctors and graverobbers swarmed her palace. A white noise of sterility and filth blended into one. Corpses were dug up, love ones yanked from their place of rest, families slaughtered, and all given to the queen.

The doctors gave her more teeth, so much that they needed to be planted her skulls. The doctors gave her more arms, sewn to her many torsos and stung together with stolen veins. The doctors gave her eyes, more eyes then she had sockets attached to her heads. Her jaw was broken open and her feast feed to her through a forest of teeth and tongue.

And as her last subject died and the corpse given to the queen, she looked over her queendom from the night sky, a top a throne that stretched to the heavens, and, for one single moment, was finally content.

Until her body was crushed beneath the weight of her more and was gone.

* * *

 

The first product in Evie's Dream of Evil collection was a wet to dry matte lipstick the same blue as her hair. Not only was the application easy, a doe foot brush across the lips with a single coat was more than enough, but the color was guaranteed to last at least twelve hours. Sweat, smear, and kiss resistant, the lipstick went on wet and dried almost instantaneously. But the piece de resistance was undoubtedly its removal. No makeup remover or wipes required. All it took was a few deliberate licks of the tongue and the product dissolved, leaving the consumer with the taste of blueberries and vanilla cupcake on their tongue. Non-toxic, cruelty free, 100% vegan, and totally safe.

The only problem was that it wasn't make-out proof. Any intense kisses or heavy tongue action and the lipstick dissolved before they got to second base. However, Evie also developed a saliva resistant clear gloss, easily removed with a makeup wipe, but costs twice as much as the actual lipstick. Evie reasoned if you want to look that good during sex, you'd be willing to pay for it.

Evie slaved for months over marketing and linguistics, trying to find that perfect combination of words for her lipstick. Something that would entice girls and boys to her product. Something rebellious, yet familiar. Sexy and sensual, but not pushing boundaries too far. Something pretty, but dangerous, like herself.

And, if she was modeling the name after herself, why not model it after her history as well?

So, Evie sashayed through the halls of Auradon Prep with her messenger bag bouncing against her hip and the newly christened Bite of the Poisoned Blueberry on her lips. She gleefully gave out demonstrations to anyone curious enough to ask about her lipstick, and the ones who didn't, on how to apply and remove the product. At the end of her demo, she handed out tiny free samples of both the lipstick and the clear gloss, christened Mirror, Mirror for obvious reasons, with enough product for one application each, and answered any questions her customers might have.

By the time she opened the doors to the courtyard, she had enough orders to buy herself a nice chateau somewhere quiet. Or, at least a new outfit or two. She breezed past Audrey, Chad, and their group, not bothering to waste words, let alone makeup on any of them. She caught Audrey's glare out of the corner of her eye as she waltzed towards her friends, like this was the first time the daughter of Sleeping Beauty had ever seen a walking goddess.

They say time heals all wounds, but Audrey was still fairly bitter and aloof towards the villainous offspring. Whether it was her personal prejudice or pride, Evie didn't know, but whatever it was, it prevented the princess from truly accepting the four of them. The kindest she'd been to them was at Ben's coronation, but she might have been just gracious Mal didn't curse her to sleep for a hundred years like her mother had.

As she approached the table, she took note of Carlos, who picked at his salad ignoring the world around him. It wasn't that weird to see Carlos zoned out during lunch, usually it was due to some test or other Carlos worry Evie didn't see the point in worrying about in the first place.

Next to him, Jay flirted shamelessly with Lonnie, who nodded politely along his self righteous bolstering, but didn't hear a single word. Instead she gazed longingly at his biceps, lost in thought of all the things she would do to the son of Jafar if he wasn't so self-absorbed. She had standards after all.

"You guys are obnoxiously sweet," Jay said, glancing across the table at the royal couple. Mal didn't take her eyes off Ben as she flipped the boy off.

"Somebody's jealous," Mal said as Ben ran a strawberry along her lips, the juice staining the pump flesh before her teeth claimed the fruit for themselves.

"Jealous? Of you?" Jay scoffed, eyes drifting back towards Lonnie.

Evie rolled her eyes. Who cares about Ben and Mal? So what if villain and a hero got together, it happened now let the scandal die for god's sake. It had been weeks and Bal, as both the media and the accompanying fanbase had nicknamed the duo, was the only thing any of the gossip shows covered. The conservative news called their relationship "the end of Auradon's prosperity and the beginning of new darkness" while the liberals claimed it was "the mending of bonds between a group who punishment had exceeded their crimes and another who had become just as corrupt." Frankly, Evie didn't care, all she wanted to do was watch the Auradon Shopping Network and not have every item be "Mal inspired."

"Hey, Jane." Evie shouted to Jane, who jumped at the sound of her name. "Would you like to sample my first ever lipstick?"

"Don't you have enough makeup?" Jay asked. Evie's head whipped around so fast Mal swears she could hear her vertebrae snap. The bluenette stared at her friend, eyes wide with confusion.

"I don't know? Can you have enough oxygen?" Evie asked, before her expression cooled and a smooth, sarcastic smirk slipped across her face. "Or hair products?"

Jay's face reddened as he turned away from the Evil Queen's daughter, running a self-conscious hand through his long, thick hair he hates to admit he takes pride in.

Satisfied, she turned back to Jane and offers her the free samples, eagerly discussing how to apply and how it totally works with her complexion.

"Evie, you made this?" Mal asked, snatching the tube from Jane's hand. She unscrewed the cap inhaled the scent before painting it on her lips. Blue was definitely not Mal's color, but Evie kept her comment to herself.

Carlos rolled his eyes at his friend's antics, but didn't look up from his food. Every time he did, the de Vil swore he could feel his cheeks burn whenever he caught sight of Ben. He'd be lying if he said he wouldn't want to see the King do something like that again, but there was something in the pit of his stomach that burned with the knowledge that whatever Ben was doing, it wasn't something he wanted anyone to know about.

Instead, he settled for awkwardly pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate, trying to focus on anything other than Ben.

"Carlos," Jay asked. "Are you listening to me?"

Immediately, Carlos's cheeks burned as his head snapped up to face the son of Jafar. But, whatever he was going to say died on his lips. Carlos blinked once, twice, three times, trying to will the mirage away. But, instead it grew closer with every step.

"Carlos, what is it?" Jay asked, turning to look at whatever his friend was string at.

"Evie!" the mirage called out, so loud it caused more than a few heads to turn in its direction. Than a few more. And a few more. And then everyone was staring at the thing that seemed to have its sight set on the Evil Queen's daughter,

Mal's throat was suddenly dry at the sight of its purple hair. Jay's jaw twitched as he watches his own muscles twitch. Chad's fingers ran across his jaw suddenly very content, because, yeah, he looks just as good as he thought he did.

It was like looking in a mirror.

Save for the two glass orbs in its eye sockets.

The entire table was on their feet just as the thing wrapped its arm around Evie.

"Oh my god," it said, running a finger along her cheek. "You're so beautiful. It's hard to believe you come out of ol' Grimhilde. Between you and me, she was looking a little...drag queenie...don't you think?"

Evie's felt like her tongue had swelled inside her mouth. Whatever this thing was looked like her, sounded like her. The princess placed a tentative finger on its cheek as if to test if whatever was in front of her was real.

"What the…" Evie trailed off as the thing in front of her smiled.

"Evie," it said. "Why are you looking at me like you've never seen your own reflection before?"

"You're my reflection?" Evie questioned, giving it a once over. Yeah, she could believe it.

"Kinda." it said. Even though the thing's glass orbs were trained on Evie, Carlos could swear he could feel them drill into his core. "I'm your Magic Mirror."

Carlos's stomach plummeted to his knees.

A Fairy Godmother, a sixteen year old king, and four villainous offspring crowding around a Magic Mirror sounded like the opening to a bad joke, but Carlos just wished they'd get to the punch line and this whole thing would just disappear.

"Incredible," the Fairy Godmother breathed. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"But, aren't you, like, I don't know, the pinnacle of magic?" Mal asked. "Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

"Mal, magic is as old as time itself," she said, leaning back on her desk. "To say anyone knows everything about magic is foolish. I've been studying it for decades and I barely understand a tenth of its power."

She turned back to the Slave. "Even I don't understand this."

"Join the club," the Slave muttered drawing its knees up to its chest. "Everything's so new. So different. I just don't know."

"Okay, let's back up for a minute," Jay said from his position leaning against the window behind the Fairy Godmother's desk. "Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm the Slave in the Magic Mirror," it said. "Or at least I was."

"Before that. Who were you before that?" Jay demanded, suspicion lacing every word. The Slave flinched at the tone and Carlos felt a pang of sympathy in his chest.

"I don't remember. All I remember is the mirror." It said. "And the questions I answered."

"How did you get out?"Evie questioned. She could have sworn she'd put the mirror in her bag after she'd left Carlos and Jay's room, but even after dumping the contents all over the Godmother's desk, she came up with nothing.

Carlos his clothes tighten as sweat began to race from his armpits to the waistband of his shorts. His cheeks burned with shame at the memory of his vouyerism. He couldn't be found out this way. Told point blank to his friends, his crush, and his teacher by a thing that looks just like him. No, he couldn't let it happen like this.

"I've been trying for years to get out," the Slave said. "And this morning, I managed to squeeze through one of the older cracks in the mirror. Next thing I know I was on the ground and Evie was walking away from me."

The weight of the world suddenly lifted from Carlos's shoulders. It didn't tell them.

"I thought I wanted to be free for so long," the Slave said, its voice cracking. "But know I don't know anything. I don't know what I look like, what I am, or even if I'm a boy or girl."

"What about your powers?" Mal asked. "Can you still find and show us things?"

The Slave shook its head. "No. I tried and nothing works. I can't see anything. I'm not magic anymore."

"Yet you can still look like me?" Jay questioned.

"No, it looks like me." Mal said.

"No, it defiantly looks like me." Evie said.

"It looks like all of us," Carlos realized. "The Slave looks like whoever's looking at it. Like a living reflection."

The Fairy Godmother went around and opened one of her drawers and withdrew a small hand mirror. "Here, what do you see?"

She held the mirror up to the Slave and the five gathered around the mirror. Jay's head throbbed as he looked at his living reflection looking at his own reflection who was reflected back as Jay, all while his non living reflection stared at him as well. Trippy.

"Nothing," the Slave's voice crackled again and the other's could swear they heard the Slave's lip quiver as a tense silence fell over the office.

"Ben, as King of Auradon, I think you should make a decision regarding…" she trailed off, the word 'slave' burning her tongue like fire and poisoning her throat. "…the Mirror."

Ben, who had been silent and dazed ever since the Slave appeared, shook his head as if it would clear the thoughts that had crept inside. The king looked from the Slave, who looked so vulnerable, so scared, so alone, and his heart broke for it. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be a slave to one of the worst villains in recent history. To tell her she's the prettiest, the fairest of them all, and then to live with the guilt that it caused the destruction that followed. It wasn't evil. It didn't mean to hurt anyone.

"I think that the Magic Mirror should stay here at Auradon Prep with us," Ben said to the Headmistress. "It can shadow one of us for classes until we can get a definitive schedule."

"Really?" the Slave said, hope lacing every word. "I can stay?"

"Yes," Ben said, his voice growing louder. "Auradon is a place of peace and goodwill and we'd be more than happy to have you."

"Excellent," the Fairy Godmother said, clapping her hands together. "I'll get the paperwork all drawn up and find…uh…it?" The Slave nodded, indicated the pronoun was fine. "A place to stay. In the mean time, you five should head back to class. Evie, I assume you'd like to take the Magic Mirror to your classes."

"Of course," the technical princess said, a smile splitting her face. The Slave paused for a moment before parting its lips.

"Um…Evie…its…well its…" It stuttered. "I just…I know you're not your mom and everything, but there's just a lot of memories and it's just that…"

Choked sobs sputtered from the Slaves lips as it drew its head to its knees to hide its face. Evie placed a gentle hand on its knee, her face contorted into a mass of understanding and sympathy.

"I get it," she breathed. "It's not easy being one of my mom's victims." She turned her head to Carlos. "You know, out of all of us, Carlos is probably the nicest. So you could probably shadow him for a while. Is that okay?"

The Slave turned its head to Carlos and, even if he did have any objections to having the Slave follow him around, which he didn't, he knew that he couldn't say 'no' to that face. Especially when the utterly broken face was his own.

"I-if that's okay with you." The Slave said, finding its voice as Carlos nodded.

"Yeah, I'm totally okay with it." Carlos assured.

"And it can stay with me," Ben said. "I don't have a roommate and I don't mind sharing."

The Slave smiled back at the king and the six of them exited the Headmistresses office as she promised to e-mail all of Carlos's teachers about the situation. Once outside, Evie looped her arm around Mal, gave the Slave a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared down the hall to their next class. The son of Jafar watched the girls round the corner before turning back to the others.

"I'll see you later," he said to Carlos, before glaring at the Slave, who shrank behind Carlos. Jay flipped his hair over his shoulder and followed the same path as the girls.

"Come on, we're this way." Carlos said turning in the opposite direction. The two made almost to the corner before the Slave said.

"Ben," it said, approaching the king, its voice small. "I just want to say that I know why you were staring at me."

Ben's heart thundered in his chest as nervousness suddenly seemed to consume his every cell.

"I saw it a lot when the Evil Queen would look at me and I want you to know that if you don't like your reflection, you can change it. You're in control of your own reflection not the other way around."

The Slave placed a hand on Ben's arm, and the king relaxed at the Slave's words. He smiled at the Slave before it ran back to Carlos.

Once they were far enough away the Slave immediately turned to Carlos, who was taking great care in not looking the Slave in the eye.

"I know what you're thinking," it said. Carlos felt his heart, and his feet, stop as he turned to his living reflection.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Carlos," the Slave's voice was soft and quiet without a hint of judgment. "You used me to see Ben and you're wondering why I didn't tell the others."

The De Vil didn't say anything, but looked at his feet as shame covered his face. The Slave placed its arm on Carlos's shoulder.

"I won't tell a soul," the Slave breathed. "I know what it's like to want something you think you can never have."

"I don't think," Carlos muttered his voice barley a whisper. "I know."

"I thought that too, but now I'm free," The Slave said perking up. "And now I can see that there's a whole world of possibilities. Anything's possible…even you and Ben."

Carlos said nothing, but he couldn't deny the affect the Slave's words had on him. There was something there in his chest, a glimmer, a light, that told him that everything would work out. That he'd be okay.

"Thanks," Carlos said, his cute smile spreading across his face. "Now let's get to class. The White Rabbit hates is when people are late to his class and I don't feel like getting detention."

With that, the De Vil broke into a sprint unaware of the Slave's thoughts as if ran to catch up with him.

"Oh Carlos. I can't wait to tear you apart."


End file.
